


The Queen of Everlark

by mrsbonniemellark



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Marriage of Convenience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsbonniemellark/pseuds/mrsbonniemellark
Summary: A famine in Queen Katniss’s kingdom leads her to strike a deal with King Peeta, the ruler of Mellark.
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 100





	1. The Deal

The trumpets announce King Peeta’s arrival and I hurry to greet him in the courtyard outside of my palace along with the rest of my court.

Peeta became King of Mellark a few years ago when he was only eighteen. As the youngest child with two older brothers, he should never have been king, but a terrible fire at sea claimed the lives of his parents and brothers and left him to rule alone. When I became queen years prior at only eleven after the death of my father, I still had my mother and younger sister, Prim, with me. And, of course, I had Haymitch to rule as my regent until I came of age. Peeta was thrust from tragedy into power, his life changed completely in a moment. 

As the children of monarchs of neighboring kingdoms, we’ve seen each other over the years, we even played together as children. But ever since I became queen, our interactions have been merely diplomatic. I hope that some sentiment from our childhood friendship remains.

The skirts of my sapphire blue gown swish around my ankles as I race down the corridors, slowing my pace as I reach the courtyard, and slip into my role as queen. Queens never hurry anywhere. I take my place in the receiving line with my mother, the dowager queen of Everdeen, and my sister Primrose, the next in line to my throne and princess of Everdeen.

The gravel crunches under the wheels of the blue carriage as it rolls to a stop in front of me. My heart speeds up with nerves as the door creaks open, and King Peeta’s blond head appears. I take in the sight of him, noting how handsome he has grown since I last saw him. His face has lost some of its roundness, as has my own, and it suits him well. 

“King Peeta,” I greet. “Welcome to Twelvia Castle.” We exchange pleasantries, my queenly training taking over as I recite the lines I have memorized for greeting equals in my courtyard. He responds in kind, greeting my mother and Prim as well in a way fitting of their station, but with a warmth that was missing when he greeted me. 

“You must be tired from your journey,” I say. “I’m afraid I have a business matter I wish to discuss in private, and then I shall let you rest.” I gesture toward the castle and he falls into step beside me as we walk together inside.

When we were children, Peeta and I were the same height. I stopped growing when I was twelve, but Peeta has only grown taller, now towering six inches above me. I feel the difference now as we walk side by side. He’s not the same boy I was friends with years ago, but if all goes well, we will be celebrating our engagement tonight. 

I lead Peeta to my war room, and invite him to sit with me at the map table in the center of the room. My kingdom, Everdeen, and the rest of the continent of Panem are spread out before us. My hand runs slowly over his kingdom of Mellark on the map, our neighbors to the west, as I take my seat. 

I can tell he is curious why I’ve brought him here, to the war room, and why I wished to talk alone, without our advisors. I saw him take note of my dress, the sapphire blue of the Mellark flag, so he at least knows our negotiations today will be amicable. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here today,” I start. I’m not sure how I want to approach the topic I have in mind, but I’ve run this conversation over and over in my mind at this point.

“I am,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“I have business I wish to discuss.” I said this earlier, and I could kick myself for repeating it, but I look him directly in his piercingly blue eyes, determined to exude the confidence of the queen that I am.

“And what sort of business are we here to discuss?” Peeta asks. He leans toward me, his elbows coming to rest on the table. That slight disturbance of the utterly too formal environment we’d set gives me courage as I say the line I’d practiced in the mirror before the meeting today.

“I wish to discuss a trade deal.” 

“For what?”

“Your kingdom’s wheat. My people are starving, and we have a great need for it.” It’s true. I’ve had many sleepless nights lying awake worrying about it and countless hours in my war room with my advisors discussing what can be done about it. But it all comes down to this. Today. Peeta is my kingdom’s last hope.

“And what do you propose in exchange?” His face betrays nothing of his reaction to the state of my kingdom, perhaps he had heard reports. A certain amount of acting, however, is an important part of ruling.

“Me.”

“What?” He blinks hard.

“You heard me. My kingdom has nothing to give yours, I can offer you nothing in terms of trade. But I can offer myself,” I say. My kingdom’s miners have been unable to turn up much copper this year, let alone anything else of value. We truly have nothing to trade but me. 

“Are you... proposing a marriage alliance?” He says slowly, running a hand through his ashy blond hair. 

“I am.” I chew the inside of my cheek as I await his response. 

Peeta looks at me with impossibly sad eyes and I just know he wants to reject me, but I can’t let him. “Katniss, I--”

“If you accept,” I interrupt, “we will rule our kingdoms side by side. I do not wish to surrender my kingdom to you, as I am sure you understand. I suspect our kingdoms will flourish together, once the threat of famine in mine has ended. And I will, of course, bear you sons.” 

“Katniss--” Peeta looks startled, his blue eyes wide.

“Yes?” My voice comes out in a squeak.

“We don’t have to do this. We can discuss another way to help your kingdom,” he says. He reaches a hand towards me, perhaps a misguided attempt to hold my hand, but I withdraw my hands from the table and settle them in my lap. I am a queen, and this is business.

“Do you...have someone you’re courting? Or perhaps someone else you were planning on marrying?” I ask, gripping my hands together so tight I fear my nails will cut my palms.

He shakes his head. “No, but--” 

“Then Peeta, this is the only way,” I say, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. I soften my tone, I should be at least attempting to woo him, should I not? “Believe me, I thought through every possible angle, but this is the best one. This is the only one that helps out my kingdom not just this once, but for the rest of my days.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but I can’t let him talk yet.

“Don’t you see, Peeta? With our kingdoms combined we will be a force to be reckoned with. Who would dare stand against Everdeen and Mellark working as one? Not even King Snow would dare march against us. We’d have him off _both_ of our backs, once and for all.” King Snow’s kingdom of Capitalia has long been a threat to both of our kingdoms as they seek to reclaim their former territories. But now, finally, we would have something to use against him. I lower my voice, “And if King Snow _were_ to march east, you would need my men. And they’d certainly do a better job if they were well fed.” 

I’m on my feet now, and I don’t remember standing up, but it must have happened while I was talking. I sit down carefully, trying to retain an ounce of dignity, and await his response.

“It’s...certainly an attractive proposal,” he says finally. His cheeks begin to pink and I wonder if he meant that as a compliment to me. I feel a blush begin to form on my own cheeks in response. 

“All I ask is that you think about it,” I say, once the silence has stretched too long between us.

“No. I’ll do it,” he says. “There are some details we’ll need to work out—where we’ll live, for one—but we can figure that out together.”

“Together,” I echo, nodding. I allow myself a smile as relief courses through me. Soon, my people will be able to eat their first full meal in a long time. “Shall we shake on it?”

I extend my hand and feel his warm one grip mine, our hands clasping together above the line dividing our kingdoms on my table map. Then he lets go.

That night at dinner, we toast to our engagement with the members of our court. There are smiles on my families’ and friends’ faces, who at this point had probably assumed I would never marry. I notice one of the high lords of Everdeen, Lord Hawthorne, is frowning, but I dismiss it. My marriage is not going to make everyone happy. 

I present Peeta with a set of leather-bound journals, artfully embossed with his initials and the Mellark crest. My advisers and I had prepared this engagement gift in advance, in case King Peeta had accepted my proposal. What I did not expect was for him to present me with a gift as well. 

“For my bride,” Peeta says, presenting me with a small box. I open it to reveal a gold locket etched with the image of a dandelion. I stare at it in shock for a moment as I take it in, the sweep of the stem and the shape of the petals making the image of the flower unmistakable. He had not had the time and preparation that I did for today, so how could he have gotten me such a gift?

That he would give me a locket with a dandelion shows that he remembers the day as I do. We were children, maybe ten or eleven years old, before my father died and I became queen and we were able to play together as equals, just a prince and a princess who had no idea what their futures held. 

Our parents were in meetings all day discussing important kingdom business, so we were free to play together in the fields by Victoria castle, the perfect location for such business matters as it was situated so near the border to Mellark. There’s a large meadow, a lake, and even a small forest surrounding the castle, a perfect playground for children.

That day, while we were playing in the meadow near the edge of the forest, Peeta picked a dandelion and held it out to me.

“For you,” he said, blushing. I smiled shyly and accepted it, pressing it into the folds of my skirt. I had just put it away when Peeta pushed me down, a wild dog jumping out at us from behind the trees. Peeta must’ve seen it before I did, taking the full force of the dog’s bite on his leg. He made a small cry and tried to shake the dog loose, but the dog held on. I remembered the small blade that my father had me carry in my stockings for protection and quickly unsheathed it, stabbing the animal in the back of his skull. His grip loosened immediately and we were able to get him off Peeta, who slumped to the ground. 

“Are you alright?” I cried, kneeling down beside him to check on him. 

He nodded. “Thank you.”

I shook my head, certain he must be delirious, he was the one who had saved me in the first place, I should be thanking him. I went and got help to carry him back to the castle and waited anxiously outside the door as the doctors looked at his leg. 

“It isn’t very deep,” they told me when they finally emerged from the room. “He’ll be alright, princess.”

I didn’t believe them until I saw him for myself. He looked so small in his bed, younger than his 11 years. The pale white cloth on his injured leg was a shock against the dark quilt he lay on, and I internally cringed, remembering the moment of injury. I sat in the chair by his bedside that must’ve been for the doctor and grabbed his hand. 

“Are you feeling better?” I asked, my voice too loud in the quiet room. 

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “Thanks to you.” 

I shook my head. “I didn’t do anything,” I said. “ _You_ saved _me_.” 

“But then you saved me,” he said. I rolled my eyes at his argument, but my cheeks pinked. There was some truth to it, but I wouldn’t have been able to help if I’d been the one injured, and he saved me from that. 

“I have something for you,” I said. I took the dandelion from the folds in my skirt and pressed it into his hand.

“No, Katniss,” Peeta protested, holding it out to me. “I gave this to you.”

“And it brought me luck,” I said. “I want that for you now, as you heal.” 

He closed his hand over the flower then, accepting it. And it did bring him luck, he recovered fully within the month. I stayed by his bedside, reading him story after story, and bringing him a new dandelion every day. 

I look at the gold locket in my hand now, wondering if Peeta means what I think he does. That he remembers that time and wants me to have a good luck charm now and in our future marriage. But how could it mean that when he can’t have intended it as an engagement gift when he didn’t know I was going to ask him?

“Katniss?” Peeta asks when my silence has stretched too long. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” I say, emotion in my voice, and I smile at him, touching the back of his hand gently.

  
  
  


We set a date for the following month and make the announcements throughout the kingdom. Peeta and I spend more and more time together as we put in the hard work of combining our kingdoms. We decide to move into Victoria Castle, the one we played in together as children, situated almost perfectly in the middle of our two kingdoms. It has a great Abbey next to it where we will marry and we decide to spend our brief honeymoon following the wedding in Mockingjay House, which is but a half-day’s journey by carriage from our new home. We also settle on a name for our new kingdom: Everlark, a combination of Everdeen and Mellark. I quite like it, but Prim thinks it sounds silly.

When the first shipments of grain arrive, Peeta and I help to distribute it to the citizens of Everlark. They line up in the streets for days, waiting for their allotted one bushel per household.

We help to pass out the baskets and cross their names off our list. Those who cannot travel to pick up their wheat will have it delivered by the end of the week. 

They clutch our hands with tears in their eyes, thanking us, telling us stories of how hard the famine has hit their families. I find my eyes moist on more than one occasion. I watch Peeta ask to hold babies and shake people’s hands, asking to hear their stories and truly listening. He replies with sympathy, and on more than one occasion takes down the address of someone with sick family members who can not afford a doctor, promising to send one. I take this all in with pride, noting how Peeta has the qualities of a truly great king and that I have been the one to bring him into the lives of my people, but I also feel a twinge of jealousy. I have known I would be queen one day for most of my life and have trained as such, working hard once I became queen regent, and yet I do not have the way with words that he does. I make a mental note to ask his advisers for tips after the wedding. 

Excitement for the day of the wedding spreads like wildfire throughout the kingdom. People start celebrating in the streets the week before the ceremony, they’re so happy they’re well-fed and the future is looking bright.

It seems as though everything is coming together nicely, and I’m starting to feel real excitement for the day of the wedding and for officially securing my kingdom’s future. 

The night before the wedding, Peeta knocks on my bedroom door. 

“What if someone sees you?” I whisper, opening the door only a crack.

“We are getting married tomorrow, I doubt it would cause too much of a scandal,” Peeta says, smirking. “Katniss, I just want to talk.”

“Alright,” I say, letting him in. He sits on the stool by my vanity and I perch myself on the edge of my bed, waiting to see what he came to say.

Peeta clasps his hands between his knees, looking down at his feet for a moment before speaking, “Tomorrow, we’re going to be saying our vows to each other as husband and wife. But we are going to be more than that, so I wanted us to make our own vows, now, as two people who will be ruling together as King and Queen.” 

He moves to kneel before me, “I vow to always listen to your counsel and consider the perspective of you and your people, for they are _our_ people now. I vow to always respect you and your decisions in public, even when we disagree in private. And I vow to never try to take away your power and always strive for an equal partnership between us.”

I’m stunned. As a female ruler, I grew up thinking marriage meant a surrendering of my power and my country to someone else. I only came to view it differently when I saw the successful rule of Septuna by Queen Johanna and King Blight. And even though I believed Peeta would be my partner in this, I never expected him to get on his knees and vow to it.

I slide off the bed and kneel beside him on the floor, taking his hands in mine. I repeat the vows that he said to me before adding my own, “And I vow to find a compromise on issues that we do not agree on and to learn as much as I can about the culture and history of your people, for they are our people now.”

As Peeta repeats my vows to me, I think of one last vow, “And I vow to do my best to bear you a son and secure the future of our new nation.”

“Katniss--” He says, looking alarmed.

“No,” I say, tightening my grip on his hands. “It is the best way to ensure that our new nation does not devolve into chaos and civil war in the future, you know that.”

Peeta searches my face for a moment and must come to a decision because he nods after a moment and I loosen my grip. “And I vow to take no actions in our marital bed that are unwanted, and to help find an alternative solution for an heir, should we not be blessed with a child.”

I nod, accepting this. 

“I now pronounce us King and Queen of Everlark,” Peeta says softly, leaning towards me.

“I think we have to wait for the coronation for that,” I say. My breath comes heavier at the sight of him so close, and my eyes drop to his lips.

“Perhaps,” Peeta says. “But may I kiss my queen anyway?” I feel his breath on my lips as he hovers there, awaiting my answer. 

“Yes,” I whisper. _Please kiss me_. My eyes flutter closed in anticipation.

His lips are soft, firmly pressed to mine for one heartbeat, two, and then they’re gone. My eyes lock with his, so wide with wonder, his pupils large in the dim light. I lean toward him to kiss him again, but he just gives me a kiss on the tip of my nose and says, “Goodnight, Katniss.” 

I watch as he stands, his hands flexing at his sides, and walks toward the door. “Goodnight, Peeta,” I say too late. 

He pauses at the door and glances back at me, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When the door closes behind him I sink to the floor, my white nightgown pooling around me. The candlelight flickers in time with my panting breaths and I clutch my chest, trying to return to normalcy. My fingers brush my lips where moments ago Peeta’s lips had been, committing the feeling to memory. 

King Peeta has surprised me tonight, I think. I didn’t expect him to make the vows that he did, or for his kiss to feel like fire in my veins. I didn’t expect to feel so empty and alone when he left. 

With thoughts of _tomorrow_ dancing in my head, I go to sleep. 

  
  


My lady’s maid, Lavinia, wakes me before dawn to start getting ready. She draws me a bath with lavender and smelling salts and helps me to wash and put on a simple gown before my sister and ladies-in-waiting join me for a small brunch reception.

They all embrace me in turn, kissing my cheeks for luck, and telling me what they have heard about the wedding and the people in Peeta’s court. While once I would have dismissed this as idle chatter, Katniss the Queen recognizes this for what it is: my ladies are relaying information about the people’s reception of the wedding and gathering information about the people who will now be in my court after today. I listen closely and am very grateful to hear that the people are excited for the wedding.

“Lord Finnick is quite the popular figure in the King’s court,” Annie tells me. Lord Finnick, as Peeta’s cousin, is the next in line to Peeta’s throne, so I listen raptly as she tells me how his charms and good looks have been a boon to him in the court. I just hope that these are tools that he will use in our favor.

After brunch, we retire to my chambers to get ready for the ceremony tonight, which will be followed by a wedding feast and ball. 

My mother joins us as my hairdresser, Portia, starts on my hair. “How are you feeling, Katniss?”

“Like every other bride on her wedding day,” I smile. “A bit nervous, but happy.”

“Are you happy? Truly?” Her eyes search my face and I don’t know what she finds there but she nods to herself and kisses my forehead. “Then I am happy for you.”

And how could I not be happy? After seeing what the wheat from Peeta’s kingdom has done for our people, knowing that they won’t starve and that we have protection against Snow, how could I not rejoice? I would marry anyone if I got that in the bargain.

Peeta isn’t exactly anyone, though. I’ve known him since we were children, truly, and he has been nothing but kind and respectful to me since our engagement. He even left my bedroom last night when I’m not sure what I would have agreed to do had he stayed… 

“Katniss,” my mother says in her voice that means business, “I think it’s a good idea to start making matches between members of your court and Peeta’s to solidify the alliance and help merge the two kingdoms.” As the dowager queen of Everdeen, this is her area of expertise. The politics of governing was never a door open to her as queen consort, and serving as regent until I turned eighteen and could rule myself was unsupported as well. The social politics of courtly life was something she learned early and something she does well. She knows more of the romantic entanglements of the people in my court than anyone else.

“Anyone you had in mind?” I ask. I’m not surprised by her suggestion, we spoke of it before, but it was a last resort to make such a choice for myself and wouldn’t wish a political marriage on someone else. 

“Well, there is the matter of Lord Finnick, Duke of Odair,” my mother says, seconding Annie’s concerns about him earlier. “We should get him settled quickly with an Everdanish wife.”

“We can make a list of potential matches,” I suggest, grateful for the solution to the Finnick problem. “I have a few ladies that may suit him.” Madge, Annie, and Leevy would match him in rank. I make a note to introduce him to them tonight at the ball.

“There’s also the matter of Prim,” my mother begins in a whisper.

The color drains from my face. “What _about_ Prim?” 

It’s strange now that my sister is fully grown, a woman herself in truth at seventeen years old. The impulse is still there to treat her as though she needs taking care of because I did for so long. I was there to hold her and care for her after the death of our father in a terrible hunting accident. It’s hard to accept that she no longer needs me the way she used to, and whether I want it or not, soon enough she’ll be the one getting married.

“She is the next in line to your throne,” she continues, “and she is of age, we should think about matching her with a Mellarkian lord.”

“Prim can marry anyone she chooses or no one at all,” I say sternly.

“Certainly we will allow her to have the final say, but we can make the necessary introductions--”

“Enough,” I say, anger rising in me. The room falls silent in response, and I take a deep breath to settle myself. “We can discuss this later.” 

My mother nods, accepting this. We sit in silence as Portia finishes my hair. When the last pin is in place in the elegant twist, Portia starts doing the hair of my ladies to match mine. They will carry the train of my gown as I walk down the aisle.

Cinna, the royal dressmaker, comes in when we are ready, carrying my wedding dress. It takes all of them working together to get me into it, but when I am finally dressed, I turn and face the mirror in the corner and we all admire the effect. The satin and taffeta fabric drapes and trails behind me in shades of white and pale gold. Strings of pearls line the square neckline, which I can tell at a glance is no lower than the latest fashions permit. Peeta's gold locket rests just under my collarbone, matching the gold tones of my dress.

My tiara and veil are affixed to my hair then by Portia’s careful fingers. The tulle of the veil reaches all the way to the end of my train, while a smaller portion will cover my face. This is to ensure that evil spirits are kept away from my marriage, a silly superstition, but as I am putting all of my hopes for my people into this marriage alliance, I find myself deeply grateful for all of these traditions. 

Lady Madge presents me with her own token of luck, a gold circular brooch with a mockingjay affixed to the rim with an arrow. She helps me to pin it onto my dress, where it looks lovely against the gold and white of my gown. The mockingjay is a symbol of hope in Everdeen. They were a particularly favorite bird of my father’s, as their voices can mimic human tones, and he loved to sing with them as they flitted from tree to tree in our gardens. That she gave this to me on my wedding day… It feels like I’m carrying him with me.

“Thank you,” I say, emotion in my voice. She nods and curtsies gracefully, her cheeks pink. 

Sae comes in then to tell us the carriages are ready for us outside. My ladies fix my veil in place and carry my train as they help me down the stairs and into the carriage. My long train is carefully placed in a pile at my feet that billows out to take up much of the room in the carriage.

My ladies climb into the carriage in front of me, with my mother and Prim in the carriage before theirs. Peeta and his groomsmen are already at the abbey. 

Victoria Abbey is a Gothic cathedral built over a century ago, when Everdeen and Mellark had been a part of Capitalia. The sweeping stone arches and mockingjays lining the roof like gargoyles made it a favorite of my father’s, and he’d even requested to be buried here.

I wave at the people lining the streets for a glimpse of me out my carriage window as I approach the grand entrance. The crowd cheers as my ladies help me from my carriage and the people get their first look at me in my dress. I smile and wave at them, ready to play my part in this. It’s showtime. My ladies find their places behind me, a hand on my train and one carrying their flower bouquets.

My mother and Prim enter the church first. They will take their seats near the altar and then I will follow.

The big wooden doors open on cue and we ascend the steps slowly, as rehearsed, in time with the music. It is customary for the bride’s father to walk her down the aisle, but as that was not possible, I thought it more appropriate to walk myself down the aisle, a queen in my own right under no one’s power but my own. I hold my head high in spite of the weight of the crown on my head. 

The aisle is flanked on either side by wooden benches where sit the high members of both of our courts. I see familiar faces, my friends and family, as well as those I know from Mellark. The youth choir stands in a box all of their own, singing out a wordless harmony with the organ in the back of the church. Their song speaks of peace and helps to calm my nerves. Though my careful queenly mask has not let my face slip to show how nervous I am, my cheeks are hot and my grip on my bridal bouquet too tight. 

I spy Peeta at the altar, standing with his back to me, in line with tradition. He may not turn until I have reached him. His black frock coat has gold accents and I have a small smile that we match. 

He turns to face me when I reach him and I mutter, “Hello,” too low for anyone but him to hear it. 

“Hello,” he whispers back. He takes in my full appearance, eyes trailing over my gown, lingering on the locket at my chest, before coming back to rest on my face. The way he’s looking at me, I could almost believe he was in love with me. This must be for the benefit of the onlookers, I think, who only know the story we have told them that it was love at first sight for us. Only a choice few know better. 

I let my queenly mask slip for a moment in response as I take in the moment: we’re here, standing in my father’s favorite church, about to say our vows to each other as husband and wife. All of my planning and hoping for this moment had depended entirely on Peeta's choice, but he’s _here_. He accepted my offer, meager though it was. I am but a poor queen of a kingdom with nothing to offer, and no great beauty at that. And yet here he stands, looking handsome in black and gold, with a gold crown on his head that accents his blond locks. I don’t have to fake emotion for him or this moment, tears spring to my eyes at how grateful I am that he agreed to this. 

Bishop Pollux clears his throat then and begins his speech, “Dearly beloved…” He rambles on about love and the meaning of marriage, but I find it hard to pay attention. My head is swimming with nerves, so I focus instead on Peeta’s warm hand in mine, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist. 

When it’s time for the vows, I can’t help but think of last night, when we made our own vows to each other as king and queen, and now we are making them as husband and wife. The difference here is striking though as we made our own vows last night, but kept it traditional today, playing the part of a couple in love. Still, when Peeta vows to love, honor, and cherish me in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as we both shall live, it doesn’t feel forced. I give his hand a gentle squeeze as I repeat the vows to him. 

As a symbol of unity, Peeta and I are each given a long white taper candle, lit by a member of each of our families (my mother in my case and Peeta’s Aunt Mags in his case), that we use to light a new candle together. Our two families, our two kingdoms, our two selves are now one, joined together in our union. Our newly lit candle is a large pillar candle on a curved stone pedestal, standing at about my height. It will burn here in the back of this church for the first year of our marriage. They say it’s bad luck if the flame goes out before then.

Peeta looks dazzling with his eyes lit by the flame of our candle, the orange light a contrast to the pale blue. His pale blond eyelashes shine in the light from the flames, and I notice for the first time how long they are. I’m not sure how they keep from getting tangled up when he blinks.

Lord Finnick, Peeta’s best man, presents the rings then, simple gold bands that Peeta and I place on each other’s fingers. We had the rings engraved on the inside with a single word, “Together.” No matter the obstacles now, we will face them together.

Bishop Pollux reads his final words and pronounces us husband and wife. Peeta kisses me very gently, tight-lipped and formal and I can’t help but think of our kiss last night. His soft lips moving against mine, and the fire they caused in my veins...

The bells begin to ring and I give Peeta a smile as I think, _We did it. We’re the King and Queen of Everlark._


	2. The Consummation

We walk back down the aisle together to cheers from our family and friends and members of our court, but make a left turn before we reach the church doors. We have one last thing to do before we leave.

My father’s tomb is in the nave of the church, an area where the ancient tombs of the kings and queens of Panem sit, and his, the newest of them all.

I run my fingers over the cool marble. The sculptor did a good job getting the shape of his face right, but the features are all wrong, his eyes too close together, his expression too stern. Perhaps they wanted to portray the king this way, as a formidable man, but he was also my father.

He was the kind-hearted man who taught me archery and who’d swing me in his arms with delight when I hit the center target. The one who held Prim on his knee while he sang songs for our eager ears. Who comforted me after a nightmare… 

Tears spring to my eyes as I place a kiss to my father’s stone forehead and lay my bridal bouquet on his chest.  _ I wish you were here with me now _ , I think fiercely. 

Peeta has his head bowed in silent respect for the late king, but looks up when I turn and face him. I hold out my hand to him and he takes it. We walk together out of the church and into the waiting carriage that will take us to the reception.

Tears continue to spill down my cheeks and I work to settle down and slip my queenly mask back into place. No one who sees me will think anything of it, of course, crying on your wedding day is meant to be good luck. It means you won’t shed any tears during your marriage. Still, I prefer to present a mask of composure to my people. 

“He was a great man and a great king, Katniss,” Peeta says. “I’m sorry he couldn’t be here today.”

“Your family too, Peeta,” I say. His words have moved me, but I haven’t forgotten that Peeta has lost both of his parents and siblings… “I’m sorry your family couldn’t be here too.”

Peeta reaches across the small space between us in the carriage to take my hand. “You are my family now, Katniss.”

_ Yes _ , I think.  _ Our wedding ceremony has made us officially that. _ Though of course it’s not  _ really  _ official until the consummation… My cheeks pink and I nod, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

Peeta and I do a loop around the streets surrounding the abbey, where people are lined up for a glimpse of us, and smile and wave at them through the carriage window. 

When the carriage finally rolls to a stop in front of the main part of the castle, Peeta climbs out first to help me down. He presses a kiss to my hand, at which the crowd cheers, and I wonder how he got so good at this. How does he know how to act in love?

My cheeks pink and I give the crowd one final wave as we head into the great hall that will host our reception. 

Three long tables line the outside of the room, one on each side, and the high table, where Peeta and I and our close family will sit, at the top of the room, perpendicular to the other two tables. 

A large tapestry wraps around the room, depicting the moment that Everdeen and Mellark overthrew Capitalia and became independent kingdoms. A piece of our shared history, our kingdoms have long been allies, and now we are one. 

We are the last to arrive and our guests stand when we enter. We quickly find our empty places at the high table and remain standing with everyone else.

Eager to begin the feast as quickly as possible, I say a short thank you to everyone for coming and then Peeta raises his goblet and says, “May our new kingdom be as strong as our marriage, built by love for each other, with a shared vision of a hopeful future. To Queen Katniss, my new bride! And to Everlark!” 

_ Prim was right, it  _ is  _ silly _ , I think. I raise my own goblet and take a drink along with everyone else and then we finally take our seats and they begin to bring out the food. I felt guilty about having such an extravagant feast when the famine in my kingdom is so recent, but Peeta and I put together a plan to get the leftovers of the feast to the poorest in my kingdom. Besides, my mother assured me, what better picture of our kingdom’s newfound fortune than a large celebration showing that our troubles are in the past? 

The first course is a lovely lamb stew, my favorite, and I try to be mindful of how many courses there are, but it’s instantly forgotten. 

While we eat, musicians come to entertain us, one by one, singing songs of love and peace, but also ballads about our past kings and queens. 

“It’s so nice to see my Peeta smile again,” Lady Mags says when she’s finished her stew. She’s seated to my left, while Peeta sits on my other side with my mother beside him. “I haven’t seen him smile since he became King.”

I look at her in surprise, a blush forming on my cheeks. “I’m glad our marriage has given him cause to smile,” I say carefully. Peeta is absorbed in conversation with my mother and isn’t paying us any attention, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still hear us.

Surely Lady Mags knows this is not a love match, but Peeta has much to rejoice for all the same: he has protection from King Snow should he march South, he has added a considerable amount of land to his holdings, if not income, and his line of succession will soon be secure. As soon as we conceive a child that is…

“I remember when you were a girl, and you and Peeta used to play together, so sweet, the two of you,” she says. “I always thought you would make a good match.”

“You did?” I ask. I was young at the time, but this is the first I’m hearing of anyone considering us as a potential match.  _ We  _ are  _ the same age _ , I think.  _ And we did get along well, naturally that gave people ideas. _

“Oh yes, I saw the way Peeta smiled when he was with you,” Lady Mags says, taking a sip of her wine with a knowing smile. “It’s the same smile he’s worn all day.” 

_ But Peeta has been pretending to love me all day _ . My heart sinks with guilt for lying, but surely it is a kindness to let her believe her nephew is in love with his new bride? 

I reach for my goblet of wine and take a large swallow. A musician begins a mournful ballad about my late father, strumming along on his lute as he sings about how much the people loved him when he was alive and miss him now.

“I was sorry to hear about your father,” Mags says solemnly. “He was a great man.” 

“Thank you.” I swallow and try to conceal the emotion in my voice as I continue, “He was.”

“And you, I hear, are a worthy successor as queen,” she says with a proud smile. I open my mouth to protest and she waves me away with her hand. “Look what you have brought your kingdom, it takes a wise ruler to see the political benefits of marriage.” 

_ Perhaps she does see more than she lets on, _ I think. 

My mother stands then and the hall quiets. She thanks everyone again for coming to celebrate with us and launches into how being a parent is similar to being a ruler of a kingdom, and expresses her joy that both I and Everdeen have found a safe, happy future in our joining with King Peeta and the kingdom of Mellark.

Everyone cheers at this and we toast again to our new kingdom and my new marriage and the next course of salted fish and venison is brought out. Peeta and I joined the hunting party in the days leading up to the wedding to be sure there was enough game to go around. Our cooks have done a good job with it, everything tastes wonderful.

Each course seems to be better than the last, with cheeses, fruits, breads, nuts, game drizzled with sauces and vegetable soups. Mags and Finnick each give their own toasts between courses, speaking to the love that Peeta has shown for his kingdom and his new bride. Mags tells the story of when the wild dog attacked Peeta and me as children, and I blush and touch the dandelion locket that Peeta gave me self-consciously. 

Of course, after the food, the music is the other star of the evening. When I hear the opening notes of one of my favorite songs, I touch Peeta’s arm to get his attention. “This song is about The Mockingjays, how the birds came to be. The tale says that a prince and princess of warring kingdoms couldn’t be together, so they turned into birds and became the first mockingjays. Listen.”

He gives me a smile and leans into me as we turn our attention to the singer, playing the boisterous tune on his lute as he belts out:

_ “Our Princess sprouted wings, flew away from all the things. _

_ And the Prince flew by her side, their love no longer had to hide. _

_ Away, away, away, away, yes the lovers flew away. _

_ We can still see them today, today, _

_ We call them the Mockingjay. _

_ And they sing, sing, sing all alone up in their tree.” _

When the song finishes, Peeta and I clap and thank the singer, who gives a bow. “One of my favorite stories as a child,” I tell Peeta. “Have you heard the tale?”

“I haven’t,” Peeta says, shaking his head. “You’ll have to read it to me some time.” 

“I...I’d like that,” I say, and give Peeta a swift kiss on the cheek. It’s probably overdue at this point, as we are playing the newlywed couple very much in love. Peeta gives me the sweetest smile and brings my hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. Warmth rushes through me at the brush of his lips, so soft but firm, and I remember how they felt against my own in my room last night.  _ Will I feel that again tonight, for the consummation? _

They bring out the desserts then: custard tarts and frosted cakes, fresh fruit with puddings, and marzipan turnovers. My stomach is full to bursting but I take a custard tart and Peeta takes a blue frosted cake with a mockingjay on it in white icing and we each try a bite of each other’s dessert. 

When we have finished eating, the presentation of gifts begins. The members of our court form a queue and present us with large tomes, ornate rugs, swaths of fabric, furniture pieces, jewelry, even a couple of chickens. 

Peeta and I thank each person for their gift and Sae, my chamberlain, keeps a list of who gave us what as they pass them off to our attendants, who set them into orderly piles. 

King Peeta presents his gift to me and I gasp softly. It’s a well-oiled, shiny black leather saddle.

“I got it to match your new horse,” King Peeta says. “She’s in the stables now.”

“She is?” I say stupidly. I’m in shock. I’ve been riding my father’s old horse for years, but she’s too old to ride now, so I’ve been using the horses we have in the stable when I need to. I’ve never had a horse of my own. Tears spring to my eyes, unbidden. “Peeta, thank you.” 

His cheeks redden and he says, “Anything for my bride.” 

I motion to my attendants then and they bring out a woven basket in which rests a black and tan puppy with long, floppy ears. “And for you, husband, a bloodhound. A true hunting dog.”

Peeta jumps out of his seat, walks swiftly around the table and scoops the puppy out of the basket. 

The puppy goes willingly into his arms, licking Peeta’s face excitedly. 

“Hello,” Peeta says softly, scratching the puppy behind the ears. “You look like a Bruno to me. What do you think? Is your name Bruno?”

Bruno barks. “I think that’s a yes!” Peeta cries. “His name shall be Bruno!”

He gives the puppy a kiss on the top of his head and hands him to an attendant. He walks swiftly back around the table and takes my face in his hands, kissing me on the forehead. 

“Katniss, thank you!” Peeta cries. “I believe we have a ball to begin. Let’s dance, wife.”

I’m laughing as he pulls me onto the dance floor. We had decided on opening the ball with a volta: considered by some to be a rather scandalously intimate dance, it has nevertheless become the fashion for couples throughout Panem. 

The music starts and Peeta and I position ourselves on opposite sides of the dance floor. He bows to me and I drop into a curtsy. We circle each other, alternately skipping and hopping from foot to foot, growing ever closer on each revolution. 

When he is an arms length away from me, we walk in a circle around each other, our eyes meeting and not breaking contact. Peeta is careful not to step on the skirt of my dress, but it brushes against him as we turn. 

The music swells as Peeta positions a hand on my back and another on my stomach, using his knee as leverage to lift and turn me around the dance floor. I grip one hand on the back of his neck, while the other is positioned close to my chest. My heels click together with each lift and we alternate hopping together as he lifts and spins me around. This puts our bodies very close, thus the scandalous part of the dance, and despite the many layers of clothing between us, warmth spreads through me at his touch.

Our panted breath mingles in the space between us when the dance is finished. His hands linger on my middle, which heaves with each breath. I can feel his heartbeat pounding beneath my fingers, which rest on the lapel of his black and gold coat. 

I feel suddenly dizzy, which must be the effect of too much wine, I think. Peeta’s boisterous mood from earlier is gone, a suddenly serious look on his face as his eyes pierce mine. 

The next song begins and forces us apart, as it calls for a group dance, where everyone joins us on the dance floor. The night begins to pass in a whirl of skirts and the tapping of my feet, as we all dance together, soaking in the happiness of the moment. I see Prim dancing with more than one Mellarkian lord throughout the night and I make a note to bring it up to my mother tomorrow.

I’ve just stepped away for refreshment when I hear a voice behind me. “Want a sugar cube?” I turn to see Lord Finnick, holding a sugar cube out to me. “I heard putting it in your glove will sweeten the marriage.” He says it in a seductive purr, standing far too close to me, so I know exactly what he means by “sweetening” the marriage. 

“No, thank you,” I say, my face hot. “I don’t think King Peeta and I need the assistance.”

Finnick guffaws. “No, I don’t think you do. I bet you’re plenty sweet enough already.”

I’m about to respond when I see Annie walking nearby. “Annie! There you are! Have you met Lord Finnick yet?”

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure,” Annie says. She doesn’t seem surprised by the sudden introduction, but as one of my ladies, she has learned to act her part in public as I do. She curtsies, “Lord Finnick, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Finnick quirks a brow and bows deeply, “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Annie.” 

I excuse myself, a grin on my face, and find myself face-to-face with Lord Gale. “May I have this dance, your majesty?” he asks with a bow. My gray eyes meet his, so alike we could be cousins but we’re not, we’re just two people who have been friends for years, brought together by the deaths of our fathers in the same terrible accident. 

I accept his hand gratefully, and he leads me in a simple basse dance as we move across the floor. The familiarity of the scene brings back memories of past balls we danced at together, the shared smiles of friendship. The last weeks have been such a whirlwind, it's a comfort to have something familiar again. 

When the dance ends, Lord Gale sighs, bowing and pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. “You didn’t have to marry him, you know.” 

The shock must show on my face, for he rushes to explain, “You could have married  _ me _ , Katniss. We would have figured something out to help the kingdom instead of joining us with the snobbish kingdom of Mellark.”

“Gale…” I begin. “I couldn’t have married you even if I’d wanted to. Everdeen would have nothing to gain from our marriage. But look what has happened because of my marriage to Peeta. Our people are well fed, after our long, harsh winter, and they are rejoicing in the streets.”

“Yes, but--”

“I’m sorry,” I say, cutting him off. “I have given you the impression that our friendship entitles you to question my decisions as a queen. I assure you it does not.”

Peeta appears then at my side, “May I cut in?” 

“You may,” I say, taking his hand. “Excuse us, Lord Gale.” We whirl away from him into the crowd.

“Were you—“ Peeta clears his throat. “Was there an understanding between you?”

“No, no!” I shake my head. “He just… wishes that had been the case.” 

Peeta nods, his jaw tight. We dance in silence then until it is announced that it is time for the bedding ceremony.

Peeta gives my hand a gentle squeeze, whispering, “I’ll see you soon.”

My ladies come find me and lead me from the room as everyone shouts well wishes and whoops. I don’t see him, but I know that Peeta is similarly being led away. 

It is customary for the ladies-in-waiting to prepare the bride for the consummation and the groomsmen the groom. Then they leave the newlywed couple alone. 

My ladies lead me through the castle to my dressing room. They dress me in my nightgown, brushing out my hair and plaiting it down my back. They help me to rub perfume on my wrists and neck and I find that I’m shaking. Despite Peeta’s gentle demeanor thus far, I’m suddenly terrified, not knowing what to expect. I haven’t known Peeta since he was a child, truly, and the way that someone is in the marital bed can be far different from how they seem otherwise. That was one of the first lessons my ladies taught me. 

“It will be alright, Katniss,” Madge says, and gives me a kiss on the cheek. My other ladies notice my expression and rush to reassure me as well. It helps me to calm my nerves and I hug them all in turn, grateful that they have not let me alone this night. 

I’m no longer shaking when I enter the bedroom. To my immense relief and disappointment, it is empty. I cross to the fireplace and stand before the fire, grateful for the warmth, letting it flow through me and calm me. I’m lost in thought and don’t hear Peeta approach until he is behind me. “You look beautiful in the firelight,” he says. 

I turn, startled. He’s in a nightshirt, not very different from my own, and I imagine he is as bare underneath. The thought makes me shiver and my eyes travel upward to his face, which is dazzling. His shock of blond hair seems to glow in this light, his blue eyes dancing, and his cheeks flushed from the warmth. “So do you,” I say. I take a step toward him and he holds out a hand to me, which I accept gratefully. 

He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my new wedding band. “You remember what I vowed last night?” 

“Yes,” I say, though I’m not sure which vow he refers to now. 

“I will not touch you unless you want me to, Katniss,” he says. “I promise.”

I find relief in his words, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. And then shame rushes through me at my relief. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know if that was a vow that you would keep.” 

He nods. “I am a man of my word.”

“I know that now,” I say, stepping towards him. Of course he would be respectful of me, this is Peeta,  _ my Peeta. _ I stop a few inches from him, our breath mingling in the space between us. “Will you kiss me, husband?”

His fingers glide over my cheek, his palm coming to rest there as he cups my face, his thumb tracing my lips, which open beneath his touch like a flower in bloom. 

My breath grows heavy as it did last night, and I find the wait for him to kiss me agonizing. He lowers his face to mine, stopping just before our lips touch. “You can kiss me whenever you wish, wife.”

“I wish it,” I say, the words a breath against his lips as they brush mine, featherlight. I gasp into his mouth, my arms reaching up and winding around his neck, pulling him down towards me. My mouth opens beneath his as the kiss deepens and his hands make their way to my back, crushing me to him and lifting me up onto my tiptoes. 

Peeta releases me after a moment and we stop to catch our breath, his lips moving across my face, along the line of my jaw to my ear. His fingers wind their way into my hair, the tie keeping my loose braid together falling to the floor as he unravels my hair. “I love your hair,” he says with a quiet groan.

My raven black hair falls in a curtain down my back now, wavy from having been in a twist and then a braid all day, though my hair is naturally straight. My back arches and my head falls back as his lips move to my neck, his arm around my back supporting most of my weight. 

A low moan escapes me and I push gently on his shoulders. He stops immediately, pulling us both to standing. He is breathing hard and steps back from me almost in shock, as though my touch has burned him. 

My fingers tremble as I pull on the ties at the neck of my nightgown, one by one, clearing the path to my sternum. Peeta’s eyes follow the path of my fingers as I reveal more and more of my olive skin. When at last the final tie is undone and my arms fall to my sides, Peeta slowly reaches out to me, his hand hovering in the air as though he were afraid to touch me and find out I was only a dream. He starts at my neck, his touch light as he traces a path on my skin that his lips quickly follow, pressing kisses to the juncture where my neck and shoulder meet, the dip below my collarbone, and lower, down my sternum to the sides of my breasts. He stops there, looking up at me from his place kneeling before me, with a question in his eyes. I know that if I decided to stop there for the night, Peeta would accept it, and it’s that knowledge that gives me the courage to shrug off the loose nightgown and let it pool at my feet.

I am bare before him now, his eyes wide as he drinks me in like a man dying of thirst. “God, Katniss,” he exhales, his hands gripping my hips and pressing a kiss to my stomach. 

My fingers tangle in his hair and hold him to me as he travels to my breasts, worshipping each one with his lips and sucking each tip into his mouth. My belly pools with warmth at his touch and I close my eyes, reveling in it.

When I can take it no longer, I pull gently on Peeta's curls, his head snapping up immediately to look at me. 

I join him on my knees on the rug, and pull gently on the ties to Peeta's nightgown. “Your turn,” I say. Peeta pulls it over his head in one quick motion and for a moment we just stare at each other, breathing hard. 

I remember when Peeta and I were children and we used to strip down to our underclothes to go swimming in the lake. He had been a boy then, but I recognize the freckles that dot his chest and shoulders, the scar on his side from when he fell off his horse. With all of those familiar signs of the boy I knew, there are new things like the broad expanse of his chest, and lower. 

My hand trembles as I reach out and slowly trace the planes of his abdomen, the ridges of his muscles, charting a path upward across his chest to his neck. My thumb rubs circles along his jaw as I gently guide him towards me so our lips meet in a kiss. 

My breasts brush up against his chest and I feel Peeta groan into my mouth. I move my knees forward, emboldened, so our bodies are flush against each other. Peeta pulls back, his eyes wide. “Katniss?” 

“Will you...” I start, blushing scarlet, “stand up for me?” 

He quirks a brow but stands at once and I take in the full picture of Peeta’s naked body for the first time. My fingers find the scar on his leg from the wild dog bite he saved me from, tracing the raised ridges of it. For some reason, tears fill my eyes and I press a kiss to the edge of his hip. 

I lock eyes with Peeta as I slowly stand, my hands coming to rest on his chest, and press a kiss to my favorite freckle just under his collarbone. Peeta’s eyes fall closed, his hands gripping my hips as I trail kisses across his chest and shoulders. 

I chart a path up the slope of his neck, pressing a final kiss just under his jaw, the highest point I can reach on my own, and then I pull back to look at him. His eyes are impossibly soft as they meet mine, an emotion in them I can’t name, but warmth rushes through me and I don’t look away.

He takes my hands in his then and pulls me toward the bed,  _ our _ bed, in the center of the room. My heart beats faster as my nerves return, but this time for a different reason. I don’t know what to expect, but I know I have nothing to fear from Peeta. He stops when we reach the bed and I find it hard to meet his eyes, looking at my feet, my face hot. My boldness from a moment ago has faded.

Peeta kisses me very gently on the temple and I close my eyes, tilting my head to grant him further access as he kisses across my cheekbone, to the edge of my jaw, and then finally, my lips. The anxieties that crept up at the sight of the bed fade as I feel Peeta’s mouth against mine, the tip of my tongue tasting his sweet lips. 

I pull him down to the bed with me then, laughing when we bump heads, and we share a gasp at the feel of him on top of me. We both move so I am lying against the pillows and Peeta hovers over me, looking at me as intensely as he did before, as though I am the most precious thing in the world to him. I reach up and cup the back of his neck, stroking the hair at his nape gently as I smile up at him. 

“We—“ Peeta breaks off, swallowing hard. “We can stop whenever you want, Katniss. If I hurt you, you must tell me at once.” 

I nod and then Peeta’s mouth is on mine. It feels as though we have kissed a hundred times already tonight—was our first kiss really only yesterday?—and yet the slide of his lips on mine still sends a shiver down my body, the touch of his tongue igniting a fire in my belly. My knees come up to grip his hips as we kiss, my hands sliding down his neck to feel the broad expanse of his back and how it feels moving beneath my hands. 

His fingers find the space between my thighs then and I moan into his mouth. Peeta laughs, delighted, and kisses down my throat and across my chest to my breasts. He resumes his earlier work of kissing and sucking at my breasts and I distantly wonder whether he noticed how much I enjoyed it earlier and if I should be embarrassed. My eyes fall closed, my head thrown back against the pillows as his clever fingers continue their work. His thumb rubs circles on my nub as he inserts a finger inside me. 

“Oh!” I cry out. My hands grip Peeta’s hair to hold him against me as he continues to suck at my breast and the waves of pleasure begin to crest. My body tightens up, my hips moving of their own accord as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me. I open my eyes to find Peeta watching my face, his eyes wide. 

He says something under his breath that I don’t catch and then his mouth is back on mine.  _ Yes _ , I think, gripping him tightly,  _ I want more. _

His lips move to my ear then and whisper how I am more beautiful than he imagined-- _ he imagined me? _ \--I can feel him, thick and hard between my legs, and he looks at me with a question in his eyes.

I nod at him, and we both groan as he slowly enters me. The pain I’d been expecting shoots through me and I have a brief moment of thinking  _ finally, our marriage cannot be undone now _ . Peeta has gone still above me and I brush the hair back from his face and tell him I’m alright, that we can keep going, and we do. 

My body seems to know what to do on its own, matching Peeta’s rhythm as our hips meet again and again. His eyes convey an expression of disbelief and pleasure that must mirror my own. Because I never expected  _ this _ . Lovemaking was not supposed to be like this, so pleasurable. But it is. I can feel it building in me again as Peeta rolls his hips, my back arching beneath him, my hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets beside me. 

He grows impossibly larger inside me and begins to shake above me, biting his lip with a muffled groan. He collapses against me and I rub his back soothingly, though his weight is more than I can bear, I can’t say I mind it. 

Peeta rolls off of me with a grunt and we both turn to face each other, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek softly, shy grins on both our faces as we catch our breath. 

Peeta’s smile falls after a moment, his eyes impossibly sad for some reason but I can’t think why. “I know you didn’t marry me for love, Katniss,” he says intently, “but I think we can still have a good marriage.” 

I’m in shock.  _ He didn’t marry me for love either, I had to talk him into it! _ But…it sounds like that’s what Peeta’s offering me, that we can have a marriage built by love.

I turn my head and press a kiss to his palm. “I… I think we can too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Come follow me on tumblr at safeinpeetasarms :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can follow me on tumblr at safeinpeetasarms :)


End file.
